


Laundry Day

by scapeartist



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scapeartist/pseuds/scapeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hook's doing laundry and Emma needs to see it for herself. PWP to make up for the heartache of "The Jolly Roger."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

"I'm sorry, _what_?" Emma asked, unsure if she had actually heard correctly.

"Laundry day. He said today was laundry day and he wouldn't be by," David repeated.

"So, what, he's going to the laundromat? Or to the local tannery? Does he even _have_ another outfit to wear while he washes his clothes?" Emma pondered out loud.

"I really didn't ask," David admitted. "I don't think Hook and I are at that stage of our friendship yet."

Emma rolled her eyes at her father and attempted to refocus on the paperwork in front of her, which was futile, because, _seriously_. How does a three-hundred-some year-old pirate do laundry? Washboard? Pounding his clothes on rocks? _Mmmm...pounding…._ Stop. She tried not to picture it (in any more detail) because in every scenario that arose, he was buck naked, and, well, she was still sharing office space with her father _for Pete's sake_. Blowing an errant hair from her face (definitely _not_ trying to cool the blush blooming across her face), and shifting in her seat (because the uncushioned chair was uncomfortable, not because anything down below was beginning to tingle or heat up or in need of relief), Emma rattled the papers again pretending she was being productive. _Jesus Christ_.

Standing up suddenly, she gathered up the paperwork and walked stiffly over to the filing cabinet, struggled to open the drawer, and once it did finally give way with a loud clatter and abrupt slide, she just tossed the sheaf in haphazardly and slammed it shut. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly, and turned back around to David who was looking at her with barely veiled amusement. 

"I promised Regina I would do a border check today. Now seems as good a time as any. Call if anything happens," she instructed. 

David raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Sure thing," he said. "Have fun."

Emma looked at him pointedly and said, "I'll settle for uneventful. This is Storybrooke after all."

"Mmm. Well, just be careful."

"Always am," she reminded him as she secured her badge and shrugged into her jacket. 

Walking out the door, Emma shook her head and felt the return of her blush as David called out "Tell him I said 'hi!'"

* * *

Emma pulled up to the docs and parked the cruiser where you'd have to be looking for it to find it. She really didn't need to give David any more ammunition or confirmation that he was right. She knew he and Hook were friendly — which was weird and awkward enough at times — but she did not care to be a topic of their conversation, _ever_. 

It was a beautiful day — sunny, warm, with a bit of a breeze but not enough to chill if you happened to be naked _...wait...what?_ Emma slapped at her cheeks trying to distract her brain with a little sting of reality, but as she approached where Hook's ship was docked, she saw reality and her imagination were on the same wavelength but differed in the details. She stopped dead in her tracks, unable to move toward or away from her destiny _...what the hell?_...destin _ation_. While she stood there arguing with herself over word choices, Hook spotted her and called out.

"Ahoy, Swan! What are you doing here? Come to get your clothes cleaned, love?" he shouted to her. The leer on his face and glint in his eyes was criminal enough, but his laundry day...outfit...made her want to weep. He was wearing a loose fitting white shirt that was unbuttoned possibly even lower than his black one usually was _...why oh why oh why..._ pants she supposed were whitish linen, and — God help her — he was wet in more places than he wasn’t. She could see the swirls of black hair not just on his chest, but on his abdomen as well, not to mention the curve of muscles in his legs as they flexed and relaxed where the material stuck to him. Laundry day might just be her favorite holiday, because Santa never left anything like this under the tree for her. 

“Might want to close your mouth, darling. You look a bit like a codfish!” Hook laughed, as he grabbed a rope and swung down off the ship to the pier and strode towards her. Heaven above, not only were the clothes wet, they were actually rather threadbare in some spots. _Why bother?_

Emma’s brain seemed unable to make her body function in any way that made sense, so she just stood there, trying to accept that, yes, truth was better than fiction. At least in this case. She gave herself an internal shake to help her conscious mind float to the top and maybe take over. 

“That’s quite the...uh...look. Very...not black.” _Smooth, Swan_.

Hook looked down at himself and pulled one bit of clinging material from his side. Emma almost slapped his hand away, but she had just enough presence of mind to cross her arms over her chest instead. 

“Oh, this old thing?” Hook said with a chuckle. “These used to be part of my uniform from my days in the Navy.”

Emma swallowed hard and took a little longer to blink so she could picture him in a uniform. _Yup...yup...mmmhmmm…that worked too._

“Swan? You alright, love?” Hook asked, putting his hand on her arm and giving her a small shake. 

Smiling tightly and opening her eyes, Emma could only nod because she was pretty sure if she opened her mouth, all that would come out would be drool. She sighed loudly through her nose and tried to pick up the scattered remains of her higher functions so she could actually carry on a conversation without sounding like an idiot. 

Hook waved her on. “Come aboard, lass. I’m just finishing up the day’s washing.”

Emma followed Hook, mesmerized by the mechanics of his body in those clothes. The leather was dead sexy, but _this...this_ was a whole different...animal. _Rawr..._ She never got to see this much of him in that damn coat—which she could see swinging in the breeze next to its pants and vest sidekicks — a nice sheen to them for a change. Hook’s barefooted step was as light as the color of his shirt, and the wet and worn spots proof that a good day’s work was satisfying indeed. _Although maybe not quite satisfied enough..._

When they reached the top of the gang plank, Emma got her answer as to how a 300 year old pirate does laundry. A rain barrel, two large buckets, and a jug of Tide. _Tide? Really? How the fuck?..._ Hook followed Emma’s perplexed look and smiled. 

“When I told your father what I was doing today, he suggested I try that soap. He was right, too, I might add. It’s making the job much quicker.”

 _Damn David straight to hell for his efficiency with chores_ , Emma thought. Her mind wandered again as she pictured Hook scrubbing away at at his clothes, sweaty, wet, with the occasional bit of detergent foam flying up and catching in his hair with the breeze. At least she was imagining all that until a sheet drying on a line she was walking under whipped around and smacked her in the face, tangling her in its dance with the wind. 

Emma sputtered and batted the sheet away like a patty-cake game gone terribly awry. Looking up, she caught Hook laughing under his hand and a lovely shade of embarrassment climbed up her neck and face. Stepping out of the way and trying to pretend her dignity didn’t get stuck to the sheet as it blew off in another direction, Emma raised her eyebrow at Hook. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to do laundry? I could have shown you how to use the washer and dryer at Granny’s.”

Hook waved her suggestion off. “I’d rather put in the work, love. Sometimes I need to work with my...hand,” he said, raising his and wiggling his fingers at her. “Laundry day isn’t just about washing the sheets and clothes, darling, I like to clear my head too.”

“Must be pretty dirty up there,” Emma commented as proof that, in fact, her brain was in no way connected to her mouth. _Son of a bitch...I did not just say that…._

A dangerous and challenging smile met Emma’s eyes when she finally dared look at Hook. He was standing much closer than she remembered. _Damned space invader..._ He crossed his arms over his chest and swayed even closer toward her. 

“Care to see just how dirty, love?” he asked, tongue peeking out the side of his mouth for a slightly prolonged instant, catching her gaze. _Challenge accepted, pirate…_

Emma didn’t bother finding words to answer him because they were just traitorous bastards anyway. Instead, she looked past him, saw his flask on a crate nearby and stepped by him and grabbed it. Popping the cork, she tipped it toward herself and spilled some down the front of her shirt. “Oops.”

Hook winced and walked over to Emma, hand directed at the wet spot spreading on her white blouse revealing a taste of what was beneath it. “Oh dear, Ms. Swan, I believe you’ve got something right...there,” he said, taking his finger and running it along the curve of the top of her breast where the material clung to her skin and the lace of her bra. 

At his touch, Emma’s breath caught in her chest and all her blood rushed south, congregating at her clit where it seemed to be setting up a rave. A shiver spread along the trail of his finger, and she feigned disappointment, “Oh, no. And it’s my favorite shirt, too.”

Hook stared at her lips like they were the catch of the day, but did not move an inch closer. _Damn him, too_. " _Tsk, tsk, tsk_ , such a shame, that. But! Today is your lucky day, darling. I just happen to be doing laundry. Perhaps I can get that out for you before it stains,” he suggested. 

“I _am_ feeling lucky all of a sudden,” Emma admitted.

He put his hand and hook under the lapels of her jacket and pushed it back from her shoulders and down her arms, then placed it on the crate where his flask had been. Emma was impressed with his self-control because she was hanging on by a frayed thread with her need to touch him. 

“Here, let me help you with your blouse. We really should sop up some of that liquid first…” he said, lowering his head to suck at the wet material while he tugged the shirt from the confines of her jeans and began unbuttoning it. _Mmmmm…_ Emma’s eyes drifted shut at the feel of his warm breath on the cool patch of rum-soaked cloth and she gripped his arms to keep her upright. The fabric under her hands was soft and well-worn and completely at odds with the scrape of his beard now skimming her cleavage, and all the sensations sent another wave of want through her, washing away any misgivings she may have had before about dodging out of work under false pretenses.

Once her shirt was open and drifting on the light breeze, Hook slipped it from her and tossed it in the bucket of water, sending bubbles flying, and raising goosebumps over her exposed flesh. He trailed his hand down her arm and twined his fingers with hers, pulling her against his chest, running the curve of his hook along the nape of her neck, and making her shiver. 

"Perhaps we should go below deck. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold, now, would we?" he whispered in her ear.

"Or get caught on less than official business..." 

"Oh, I'm official, love. I'm a murderous pirate — a hardened criminal," he reminded her, rubbing something that was, in fact, _quite_ hard against her hip. _Oh..._ "Someone really needs to check up on me regularly. You know, to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"Keeping tabs on the criminal element _is_ in my job description," Emma said, the corners of her mouth lifting. 

Hook led her down the ladder and said archly, "Well then, Sheriff Swan, isn't it time you did your job?"

 _Bet your ass it is, sunshine_. Emma jumped the last few steps and launched herself into Hook's arms, her fingers immediately going into his hair as her mouth crashed into his, intent on making it near-impossible for him to talk, or breathe, or think. It was time for a level playing field, after all. She pushed him back against the wall, pinning him there while she shucked the damp shirt over his head and raked her nails through his chest hair, over his nipples, and making him suck in a sharp breath before chuckling deeply. 

"Ooh, I like a girl with claws," he growled.

Picking her up during another heated kiss, Hook spun them around, pressing Emma’s back into the door to his quarters. She hitched her legs around his hips and he bucked into her, grinding into the seam of her jeans, and putting pressure right where she craved it. She moaned at the feel of him so close but still too far, and she reached down to feel his length straining in his timeworn trousers. He bit his lip, exhaled sharply through his nose, and kissed Emma with a hunger she knew all too well. _Better than the brunch at Granny’s..._

She broke their kiss and smirked at him, still stroking him through his pants. “Straight, but definitely not narrow,” she observed. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming back to check in on me then. I hate to disappoint, darling, but I’m not likely to change my ways,” he told her. "It's going to take a lot of work to reform me."

"I think...I'm up...to the task," she breathed between the kisses she left along his jawline. 

Emma let her legs slide down his so she could lean against the door and free up Hook’s hand from where it was supporting them from collapsing under the weight of their desire. Free to roam, he trailed scorching kisses down Emma’s throat and over her collarbone, ghosting above the lace covering her breast, his lips replaced by his warm hand that fit the shape of her perfectly and could raise her nipple to a peak with one swipe of his thumb. For a split second, Emma wondered if the rum she poured on her chest might actually catch fire with how he was making her feel. Spontaneous combustion was an option she hadn’t considered before, but the odds of it happening rose considerably the more Hook touched her. She sighed happily as her head fell back against the door with a slight thump, one hand splayed against the wall to keep her steady and the other carding through Hook’s hair as he worked his way down her body. 

Kneeling, he continued planting rough kisses and nips along her rib cage and stomach as he unbuttoned her jeans and began sliding them down her hips. He breathed her in, humming in approval at her navel, as she stepped out of then kicked her pants aside. Standing, Hook scooped Emma up in his arms and pushed open the door to his quarters, and carried her over to his currently sheetless bunk and sat her on the edge of it. 

Gesturing to the room, which was looking as disheveled as he did at that moment, Hook apologized. “Sorry for the state of the place, love, I gave the scullery maid the day off,” he teased, kissing her nose. 

With Hook trapped between her legs that she had wrapped around his hips, Emma unbuttoned his pants then toed them down his thighs and calves until he could take over and shove them down and away behind him. Finally seeing all of him, she flashed a predatory grin at him. _...Hot damn..._ Shifting to kneel on the bed, Emma's breasts were eye level with Hook as she removed her bra — letting the straps fall from her shoulders, then undoing the clasp behind her. As soon as it fell forward, revealing her breasts _...aahh freedom..._ , Hook snatched the garment and flung it over his shoulder before cupping the breast closest and giving it his full attention with his tongue and lips. _Holy hell..._ Emma arched into Hook, pulling his head closer for more suction, more skin for his teeth to scrape and scruff to graze, more licks of fire running straight to her core. _More, now, more more more..._

It took one flick of the sharp end of his hook to divest Emma of her panties and she was torn between outrage and overwhelming lust at his obvious need for her. They weren't her favorite panties anyway, _so fuck ‘em_. Hook again scooped Emma up and lay her down on the bed, scrambling up over her. They continued to kiss in the limited space of the bunk _...obviously couples were not encouraged in the Navy..._ Hook trailing his hand down her body and testing the waters, so to speak. He rubbed his fingers through her sensitive skin, dipping a finger in and out lazily while pressing his thumb and circling it around her clit making her gasp and arch, wanting everything he was slow to give. His head bent down to catch and swirl her nipple with his tongue and Emma was sure her brain was going to short circuit for good with jolts of electricity shooting toward each other from each location he was tending to and causing a storm low in her belly. _Who was the one with the magic fingers again?..._

She was getting too close too soon _...not yet not yet not yet..._ so she wrapped her hand around his wrist to stop him from going any further. He looked at her cautiously, but then she brought his hand to her mouth and licked the finger that had been inside her, slowly, as if it were a cherry popsicle on a hot summer's day. 

"Who's the dirty one now, Swan?" he asked, licking his lips and teasing her with the promise of a kiss he refused to give, just hovering above her lips, their breath mingling in shallow bursts. 

_Bastard..._ She lunged, rolled him onto his back and positioned him at her entrance then sank down on him inch by _goddamn beautiful_ inch. The grin on his face as he arched his back and thrust deeper into her was sublime, and she was pretty sure hers matched _...like those old couples who dress alike...._ He gripped her thigh with his hand and traced her nipple with the curve of his hook as she rocked her hips back and forth, shifting now and again to rise up and sink back down again languidly on his shaft. 

Emma leaned over Killian, capturing his lips, her tongue sliding into his mouth, meeting his and then stealing away again. Her hair cascaded around them, hiding the sweet look she gave him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"Now would be a great time to fuck me, Jones," she suggested, nibbling on his earlobe and making squirm in a way that worked for both of them. 

Killian laughed and thrust up swiftly hitting that one spot that made her see stars. "Oh, really, lass?" 

Emma moaned loudly _...oh...god..._ "Really. Hard and fast, buddy. I'm on the clock." 

Drawing back her hair so he could better see her eyes and sly grin, Killian winked at her and gave her a mock salute. “Aye, aye.” 

Before he made a single motion with his hips, Killian cradled her head in his hand and kissed her tenderly and thoroughly, leaving them both breathless. _Who needs to work?..._

“Now, my beautiful lass, on your knees,” he requested. 

Hook slid out of Emma with a rough groan and they shifted so he could get behind her. Not wanting to waste a second, he was back inside her, her walls closing in on him deliciously as soon as she was in position. He gripped her hip, first moving slowly in and out of Emma, setting an easy pace, but as she pushed back into him faster and harder _...more more..._ , he leaned over, reached around to caress her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, escalating her need with each gentle twist. His thrusts deepened, once again hitting her favorite spot, and building the pressure up until she couldn’t hold back any more. _ohshitohshitohshit...right there…oh...sweet...heaven_. She clamped around his cock with a loud and lingering moan, drawing out his release, his breath ragged between a few choice oaths of his own. 

Once again, Hook leaned over, this time kissing the spot between her shoulder blades then resting his head there as they both caught their breath. Pulling out reluctantly, Hook backed off then helped Emma to her very shaky feet. _Fuuuuck..._ He tucked her hair behind her ear, and she fixed the pendants on his chain then kissed one more time, still feeling the bliss echoing through them. 

* * *

When Emma returned to the station, she was carrying a coffee for her and brought one for David too. He looked at her oddly when she handed it to him. 

“What?” she asked trying not to look like she had been out fucking a mostly-reformed pirate. 

“Uneventful patrol?” David asked with a mixture of concern and bemusement. 

“Yup.” _That’s my story and I’m sticking to it._

David nodded, clearly not believing a word she said. He nodded at her shirt. “You weren’t wearing that when you left,” he commented. 

Emma looked down at Killian’s only other spare shirt _...that looked she picked it up at the Enchanted Forest thrift shop…_ she had put on when she left thanks to hers soaking in a bucket of soapy water. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “I spilled some coffee on my other blouse so I changed.” 

Lips pressed together in what Emma could clearly tell was a suppressed laugh, David said, “Good thing it’s laundry day.” 

_Good fucking thing indeed._


End file.
